Snow
by ilurandir
Summary: for tickingandtwill


**SNOW**

**Tom** hadn't seen snow until they came to Humbleden. Not really. Not snow that stayed on the ground and blanketed it in white. It had snowed on the Head, but then it never really left anything more than bitter cold winds and frost on the sparse grass. The constant puddles would be covered in thin sheets of ice. Barry liked to step on them, and Robbie always told them not to because one of them usually ended up falling in, ice-cold water up their shins, and then, of course, they would get a cold and one would blame the other. Still… he missed Christmas on the Head… it hadn't been so much about how much cocaine Barry could suck back, how much vodka they could drink… it was more just… being there. Together.

**CHILD**

**Barry** glanced over at Tom who was watching him. He knew Tom had felt the tension in his limbs, the skip in his heart. Tom had heard the slow, heavy intake of breath like he was breathing in steam. Nick's yelling was getting muffled by that other thing. The voice in his head. Tom reached out and touched Barry's face. "Baz," he whispered, and Barry focused on him, because he knew, sometimes, that this worked. He closed his hand tighter on his brother's shirt, not taking his eyes from Tom's.

"Fuck this!" Nick snapped, realising that neither of the boys were listening to him. He stalked out of their attic room, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him. Barry jumped. Tom turned to Barry fully, moving closer to him and touching his face. "Shh, Baz," he said.

Barry hated this. Hated being treated like a child… but sometimes… sometimes it helped. Because Tom was _his_ and his alone when this happened. Tom didn't pay attention to anyone else, just Barry… and Barry liked that.

**BRICK**

**Tom **leaned back against the brick wall on the roof of Humbleden, Barry more tense, hugging his knees as much as he could and leaning over them, eyes hard on the metal under his shoes.

"Wanna go home," he muttered, playing with one of the bits of bricks they'd used to throw at Nick and Eddie moments before.

"Nick'll calm down. Paul said he always does."

"Fucking hate him."

Tom reached out, touching Barry's shoulder, pulling him back until Baz was leaning against the wall almost sideways. Tom shifted around, facing him more, their legs entwining. Suddenly Tom grinned. "Bet he doesn't even know how to get up here."

It took a moment, but Barry grinned back.

**JUDGEMENT**

**Barry **looked up at the gorgeous girl that had just come in. Long dark hair, blue eyes and smiling like she'd never been happier to be anywhere. He caught the look on Paul's face too, before he forced a smile there instead, standing up to great her. It had been confusion and something almost territorial. Something like _what is she doing here_ and so Barry voiced the question.

"It's Tom, isn't it?" _And what's the difference?_ Barry wondered.

"That's right. I am Tom… this is—this is George."

Genuine confusion passed over her face, but she was smiling again almost instantly.

"I thought… I thought it's Barry."

"Call me Georgina, if you want," Tom said and Barry smiled, looking back at her…

"No he's joking, I'm actually Barry. I'm Barry… shake my hand, touch my hand… " he pulled it away. She was good-humoured though. She laughed. She didn't know he was testing her.

"I'm Barry."

And Barry didn't like the way she couldn't take her eyes off Tom…

**POWDER**

**Tom** was curled up against Barry's side, his eyes closed. He was close to sleep. It was several hours after he'd done cocaine for the first time… several hours after he'd said those things to Paul.

"_We don't need you anymore."_

He could tell that Barry was fighting sleep off, because he, Tom, should have been out by now. He was exhausted.

"Barry?" he whispered. _What's wrong?_... But he knew.

"Why'd you say those things to Paul?" Baz asked.

"What things?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Never mind, Tommy…" Barry said, but suddenly he turned into his brother, curling around him, their foreheads together for an instant before Barry tucked his head down more and closed his eyes. They could sleep now.

He's seen the way Barry kept looking at Paul as he told Tom that he wasn't going to be doing cocaine again… but then again, the way Barry clung to him now, trying not to cling… Tom knew that he'd done the right thing. Paul couldn't have his brother. Couldn't pull Barry away… no matter how much he tried, because Barry didn't want it. Barry didn't want it.

**GRIM**

**Barry** wasn't looking at Tom, even while Tom stared so hard at him.

"S'Gonna get me someday, Tommy. Told me so… and He's always right, innie, Tommy?"

"No… No, he won't," Tom said, trying to calm Baz.

"Yes He will… He's always right Tom, you know that."

"Barry..."

"No use denying it…"

**TRAP**

**Tom **knew that Barry didn't like Laura… or well, he did, but he didn't. And Tom didn't know whether to like the fact…. That the only way Barry showed affection towards her was sexual…

But then, maybe that was good… because Barry and him… they were different.

Tom smoothed his brother's hair, running his thumb over Barry's cheekbone and Barry's eyes flickered open.

"S'Laura coming tonight?"

"…Dunno."

"Maybe I should just go somewhere else, while you two fuck up here." Barry muttered… Tom didn't like the way Baz talked about leaving… he did more often than not now… and only ever with Laura around. Not that it would truly be possible for Barry to leave and not bring Tom along, but… still – the idea behind it. It reminded him of when they were little kids and Barry would pretend that they weren't twins…

The way Barry's eyes flickered between his showed Tom that it was a trick. A trap. Trying to find out who Tom would chose… Laura… or him?

"Don't want her to come, Tommy," Barry said, looking away and burying his face in the pillow.

But Tom did…

**STAR**

**Barry** and Tom lay on the slightly damp grass on their backs, heads tucked in close to each others, their hair mingling, the exact same colour. Twin expressions were fixed on the sky. There were lots of stars out here but not nearly as many as out on the Head when the skies cleared up. They knew the constellations and their names, and had created some of their own when they were younger. They were past that now – creating constellations… or so Barry thought.

"A guitar," Tom said. Barry's eyes narrowed a little.

"Wot?"

"There." Tom raised his arm and traced some obscure shape, presumably tracing stars. Barry stared hard, trying to see what his brother was seeing…

"I don't see it."

"There… under those three bright ones."

Barry turned his head to face his brother. "Are you fucking insane?"

Tom looked at him, grinning… it faded a little at their proximity. "Maybe you need glasses," he said seriously, but then his grin was back. Barry smiled and shook his head, looking away, back at the stars again… and he saw what Tom was talking about, the neck of the guitar, the body… Just vaguely… only if you were trying to see it… but he wouldn't admit to it. Just let Tom continue to try to show him, finally taking Barry's hand and tracing the outline for him.

Barry shook his head. "I think _you_ need glasses."

**POSSESSION**

**Tom **saw the sharp metal flashed as Barry pulled his hand back. Tom caught his arm, the knife falling less than two inches from his shoulder. "Barry! BARRY!"

Barry was shouting something, but Tom wasn't listening… only subconsciously he heard it. The words registered, but he couldn't think on them. He struggled against his brother… or that thing that was behind Barry's eyes. That thing that hated him and fought him… and fought Barry. It was all so confused, so hard and Tom was _so fucking sick of it_.

He caught up the knife and threw it down to the floor, but the fight continued. Finally, Barry calmed down… it seemed like hours later. No one had come in to help them… Eddie stood there in the door with his stupid fucking camera as Tom touched his brother's face, smiling, talking to him. _I know that that wasn't you. I know you, I love you… don't worry, because I'm not angry. Not at you_… he couldn't say these things out loud… he just said his brother's name over and over. And "It's all right," Finally, finally Barry leaned forward and Tom wrapped his arms around him. He never wanted to let go.

**BANDAGE**

**Barry** watched Robbie wind the tan-coloured cloth around and around his wrist. "That's what you get for running around on those rocks like you were."

Tom looked ashamed but Barry pouted. "But there's nothin' else to _do_!"

Robbie looked up. He was ten and the summer sun made his freckles stand out more than usual. She would have to cut their hair again soon. He was chewing on his lip, his body tense, ready to pull his wrist away if she hurt him. He'd sprained it or something. It was one thing to handle one body on those rock cliffs. The way these two boys ran down them was something else, and it always worried her.

"There's plenty to do," she said. "You could help me wash dishes."

Tom groaned and Barry pulled away. "My wrist hurts too much," he said, when a second ago he'd been telling her he was fine. "Can't wash dishes now, Robbie…"

She hid her smile with her hair, looking down and pulling Barry's arm towards her, just under the elbow, and finishing the bandaging. "Go back outside then. Don't go near those rocks."

**PEARL**

**Tom**'s eyes slid over Laura's writing. _"Casting pearls before swine…"_ He puzzled out the metaphor… he'd read it somewhere else, ages ago, in a book and knew from Laura's quotations that she was going to reference it at the end of her article. He knew she didn't like it when he read her stuff. She was very private about it, but it was just sitting there on the kitchen table, and there was really nothing else to look at…

She was talking about the music… Tom's music. The soft, quieter songs that he wrote, and not the louder, blood and sweat adrenaline-rush music that Barry and the rest of them came up with… he knew they'd never be able to play the songs he wrote… the non-punk songs and he didn't write them for gigs… he wrote them for her, and for… others…

He glanced at Barry who was stirring his tea, and had been for the last three minutes just to hear the clink of the spoon against the edges of the mug.

Even Barry didn't know what songs Tom wrote for him. Laura could write in metaphors, but Tom could write with discretion.

**GLASS**

**Barry **was shaving the hair over his ears again and Tom watched him in the mirror. He didn't even have to unfocus his eyes to see how much his brother looked like him. How much they _were_ the same person. The weight of the join between them told him that. Barry's eyes caught his in the glass. "What, Tommy?"

"Hm? Nothing."

Barry studied him for a moment longer, then went back to his hair, the faint buzz of the electric razor loud in the quiet house. It was well past midnight and Tom was about ready to go to bed. Wrap his body around Barry's. The bathroom was cold. Finally, Baz finished and dragged his fingers through his hair, rubbing at it vigorously getting rid of all the stray pieces that clung stubbornly.

In bed, Tom reached out to feel the skin there, just above his ears, and the short-buzzed hair before that faded into his regular curls. He missed Barry's hair when they'd first come here. It added an innocence that he couldn't often find in Barry's face anymore…

He realised with a start that back in the bathroom, their faces so similar… that he'd lost his innocence as well.

When had that happened? He wasn't sure he much liked it. He slid his hand into Barry's hair and kissed his forehead.

"Don't, Tommy," Baz mumbled sleepily, so Tom tucked his brother's head under his own chin and wrapped his arm around his back.

**CLASSIFIED**

**Tom** and Barry, they were freaks. Classified and filed carefully away amidst the carnival monsters and drag queens and such. That's half the reason why their music sold so well. Without the join, they might never had gotten anywhere. Paul told them that that wasn't likely, but he also told them that music was a difficult business as he handed Tom the joint and his eyes found Barry's. Tom didn't like the way that Paul smiled at his brother so often… and he didn't like the way that Baz smiled back.

**BUTTONS**

**Barry** stared as Tom undid the buttons of their shirts around the join, the way that Tom's fingers brushed the skin there, touching the tunnel of flesh gently before looking up. Barry met his eyes. They'd barely spoken to each other all day, and Barry felt the distance more than anyone… Tom was mad because Barry's made another sexual crack about Laura, and it had been one too many on top of everything else. The stress of making this fucking album that Tom hated almost as much as he loved…

Tom gave him a tentative smile, his fingertips still over the join… in that one part, near the centre but more towards Barry where they could both feel it, that touch. Barry sighed. Tom was saying _Hey… I'm still here…_

Barry tugged at the sleeve of Tom's shirt briefly before be started on the buttons of his own. That awful weight that had been in his gut was gone now… they were just TomandBarry again.

**CLOSET**

**Tom** awoke with a start and realised it was Barry that had woken him. For a moment it was as though there were back home. Little kids, tucked into their old bed.

"What?" he whispered into the darkness. It was too dark even to see Barry. The sound of rain against the windows registered.

"Nothing," Barry said, slightly breathless and Tom realised how fast both their hearts were pounding.

"All right?"

Barry was half sitting up, Tom had come up onto his elbows without even realising it… their moving together was so instinctual he hadn't even thought about it.

Barry's eyes were fixed on the door. "It was a dream… then I thought I heard something."

"Eddie, probably."

"…No…"

Tom reached out and found his brother's face, surprised to feel that he was shaking a little. He turned towards him, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders. It was like when they were kids and they would call for Robbie. It was always Barry that couldn't get to sleep at night and Robbie blamed Tom for telling the ghost stories that Barry loved, but the boys knew it wasn't that. Once Barry had dreamt about It… Him… standing by the door of their closet to the right of their bed. Tom's side… ever since then Tom would see Barry's eyes shoot in that direction… that had been when he was seven. When they left the Head at seventeen Barry still did that… whatever it was had scared him enough that he always remembered it.

"Was it about Him?" Tom whispered.

Barry nodded, shifting closer and letting Tom curl around him, protecting him. "S'never gonna leave us alone, is He, Tommy? Never leave us alone…"

**ASH**

**Barry**'s eyes flickered to the ash of Tom's cigarette, wondering just how long Tom was going to sit there with it in his mouth as he played guitar and if he was going to tap the ash before it fell onto his clothes and possibly set fire to something… like his trousers. Barry grinned a little. Tom breathed smoke out his nose. Barry stared at his brothers mouth, his lips around the fag, so careful… He reached out, brushing his fingers against the chapped skin and tapped the ash out. Tom looked confused for a second.

"Oh… thanks."

Barry shrugged and smoked the rest himself.

**DEFINITION**

**Tom** glanced over at Barry. He was frowning, reading a book, isolated, Tom could sense it, even though their upper bodies were touching.

He read the beginning of the page Barry was on. _"symptoms including violent episodes or a split personality, one persona, in this case, being the more aggressive and the other-"_

Tom reached out and pulled the book from Barry's hands, and Baz started. "Tommy!"

Tom closed the book and tossed it onto the table in front of them, too far away to reach without both leaning forward to get it. Barry met his eyes, angry… but then it faded at the look on Tom's face.

"That's stupid," Tom said and went back to his sheet music, but he couldn't concentrate now…

When Barry moved to stand Tom did without hesitation. They were the only ones in the recording room, but that didn't matter. The tears came for Barry half-way up the stairs to their room… Tom closed the door and just held him, standing there in their room, illuminated by the sun that was setting over the trees outside their window. He didn't know if the book was right or not… he just didn't want Baz to be so scared…

**STAIRCASE**

**Barry** stopped suddenly and the two of them staggered a bit, down a step. "Shut up!" Barry whispered, and Tom stilled, watching his brother before looking in the direction of the two voices.

"I think he should get help," Laura was saying.

"What the fuck d'you know, Ashworth?" Nick snarked back. Both boys recoiled a little.

"I just… Nick-" they heard her sigh. "You saw what happened to Chris. You… you _know_ it affected the band. I can see that it's _still_ affecting the band-"

"You don't know shit, Laura, because _you_ left… you have no idea what you're talking about. I'm running the show here, not you, and Chris being psychotic and Barry being just— Barry's just a trouble-maker. I mean, they're completely different things!"

"You're kidding yourself." Laura said very softly after a moment before she turned and the boys heard her go down the stairs. Nick followed a few moments later. When Tom looked at Barry, Barry was staring at the floor.

"C'mon," he said, tightening his arm around Barry's shoulders. They took the stairs.

**NAIL**

**Tom** chewed on his lower lip, watching Barry work the lose nail out of one of the shutters over their window. He hadn't spoken much all day. Paul had kept shooting Tom glances as he worked through a new song with them but Tom hadn't been able to answer. Finally they had escaped up to their room again. Tom leaned closer to Barry, resting his head on Barry's shoulder until Barry leaned his own head against Tom's.

"Laura thinks I'm crazy."

"Barry-"

"You still like her, Tommy?"

Tom didn't answer. He stroked Barry's curly hair, turning his face to press his forehead gently to Barry's temple before he turned his head, his hand on his brother's neck, to look out the window with him. The shutter was loose now and swung on its hinges. Barry reached up and wrote "Baz" on the cold glass and Tom drew a circle around it… everything was all right. It would be fine… it would be fine…

**PREY**

**Barry **knew that It chose it's victims without his consent. He'd known that for ages and ages. Ever since it had all started really. He'd get angry at people without even being angry with them and soon all of his emotions got confused. He was pretty sure he didn't feel things like Tom did… not anymore…

It frightened him, the hot hatred that would churn in his gut when Tom met his eyes sometimes… when Paul touched his shoulders. He hated it, and he fought it. Sometimes he won, sometimes he didn't. That time with the knife… that hadn't been him. At least Tom knew that. It was so hard to make people understand. That was why he and Tom kept it a secret. No one else could know. Not really… there were so many things no one else could know.

He just had to keep it under control. Tom would help him… with Tom there to be able to know when it was coming, to be able to keep him calm, keep him grounded… it was all right.

Which was why, when Laura whispered something about a separation to Tom, late one night Barry hated her more than he ever had. How could she do that to them? To him?

Barry hated how It liked Laura a lot more than he did.

**BACKWARDS**

**Tom** noticed that Barry seemed happier now… but something between them didn't feel right. Physically. The way Barry felt didn't feel happy. Not to Tom, and so it confused him, but Baz refused to talk about it.

Paul and the others, they didn't seem to notice anything wrong, and why should they, when Baz and Tom seemed perfectly fine. Aside from a few sideways glances, a few mumbled words that were meant to be between the twins and the twins only, nothing seemed amiss.

Only Tom and Barry knew different.

Because on the outside, Barry seemed happier than Tom had seen him in a long time… even back on the head, but the jolts of feeling, the strange tension that seemed to radiate from his brother seemed to prove to be just the opposite.

**TROUBLE**

**Barry **and Tom were with Paul who, after a few drinks and a few drags on the joint they were passing around, always seemed to get more talkative. He was telling them a story of the days of the Noize which he rarely ever did, telling them about how much trouble the band used to get him. Him anyway… he danced around the fact that it was with Chris, only saying his name if he had to and not more often than that, but they got it. They knew. Barry was more aware of it than Tom was… after Laura's little comment about a surgery, Barry had been… almost looking for someone else to fall back on, although he could never tell Tom that… he didn't even really want to admit it to himself. He was just doing it out of self-preservation, really, but that didn't help ease the constant bit of panic that weighed in his chest; on his mind.

And so when Paul caught his eyes, Barry smiled and leaned forward, not as close as he wanted to be, but close enough, because he saw that little flicker of want in Paul's eyes, that tiny hesitation in his story before he stared at his shoes, still smiling, and continued… he'd forgotten where he was for a moment. Barry never had that effect on Tom…

**LITTLE**

**Tom** held Barry's eyes for another moment, then looked down at his shoes.

"Tommy?"

"Why are you asking me this, Baz?"

"'Cause you'd do anything for Laura, wouldn't you?"

No answer.

"Wouldn't you, Tom?"

"You know the answer, Barry."

"I want to hear it."

Tom shook his head. He wasn't going to say it… and Barry was suddenly flooded with doubt that had only been a little worry until just this moment... Tom wouldn't give him an answer. Wouldn't say that he didn't want a separation… because he did…

Barry wanted to hit him. He wanted to shake him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking, how would they live, how would _he_, Barry, survive without Tom? _Why_ didn't Tom feel the same?

Instead he just dug a bag of white powder from his pocket and did a line. Tasted the bitterness in his throat, on his tongue.

**COLLAR**

**Barry** reached out, absently and fixed the collar of Tom's shirt. Tom glanced at him, realised what he was doing and looked away, back to his writing. Barry didn't moved his hand for a moment, then he ran his down his brother's side touching him softly, purposefully. Enough to make Tom hesitate and look back at him again, quizzical. Barry leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Tom almost pulled back, but Barry's hand came up to his face, touching his face softly, fingers behind Tom's ear and Tom relaxed and leaned in again, meeting Barry's lips gently with his own. It wasn't a passionate kiss. Just touching, almost lazy, slow and careful open-mouth kissing. Barry pulled Tom's lower lip into his mouth briefly before he pulled back. He liked that look that Tom gave him. Calm and accepting. A little confused. Tom should be confused. Barry was confused all the fucking time now.

He looked away, but Tom didn't take his eyes off of his brother for several more seconds.

Barry, for once, had no idea how confused Tom was.

**CIRCLE**

**Tom **traced his fingers around the circular join on his side, wondering what the scar would look like if that tunnel of skin and blood and that were gone. Barry was half-asleep. Rain pounded on the window, blown harder against the glass by the wind and Barry snuggled closer until Tom's knuckles touched Barry's skin, just under his ribs. Just over the join. He touched Baz there. How raised it was where the join met his body. How different from his own. More connected. More of Barry's skin, Barry's flesh held him to Tom. Much more of his brother was connected to this… it was funny how it seemed to physically mark their attachment to _being_ conjoined. Tom's just there… Barry's… hopelessly intertwined. Impossible to separate

"_One of them might die."_

Tom took a breath and wrapped his arm around Barry's back. Suddenly everything went full circle. He didn't want a separation suddenly, wondered why he had even considered it.

"Tom grows on Barry," he whispered. "And Barry grows on Tom."

That was how it had always been. That was how it would stay.

**HANDS**

**Barry** kicked his legs over the side of the old wrecked boat sitting on the marshes just far enough from the ocean to not be pulled in by high tide... not that it would have gone very far. They were five. It was their birthday. They were playing a game and Tom had been talking about the rules. A rushing started in Barry's ears and for a moment he thought it was the wind, the waves, although he'd never heard anything quite like that before. Tom didn't seem to have noticed, and it was when Tom didn't notice that it started to frighten him.

Things seemed to swing around him suddenly even though it didn't look like anything was moving. He reached out and grabbed part of the boat, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What?" Tom was looking at him quizzically. The salt-wind had curled the ends of his hair, making it messier like his brother's… Barry didn't even have to explain it. Tom knew. He looked over his shoulder and Barry could see the tension in him…

"He's not out there." Barry said, although his eyes scanned the ocean too, as though they might see the owner of the voice that Barry heard sometimes out there on the waves… but they didn't. They never did.

"What'd he say?" Tom asked.

"Nothing… I wasn't there for a minute."

Panic flashed through Tom's eyes. "That's not _funny_, Barry!" He shot out.

"I know!" Barry yelled back, his voice breaking, on the verge of tears.

They were both scared. They could see it both in each other's eyes and in their own reflections mirrored there.

Something touched Barry's hand on the boat. He'd pulled his fingers into his sleeve against the biting wind. Tom squeezed his hand through the fabric. "I won't let him take you away."

"Promise?"

They were both staring down at their hands as they spoke but Barry could see Tom nod out of the corner of his eye.

**FREEDOM**

**Tom **and Barry took off running. All it took was a shift of their weight, an arm indicating direction and they knew which was to go. It was easy, it was effortless. They didn't even think about it. "No two ordinary people could run that close," Laura had once said after watching them all play football one afternoon, ball brown with dirt and age than black and white. Her mother wouldn't have let her touch it. Half of the others could barely keep themselves from falling over, although the alcohol might have had something to do with that.

Barry let out a joyous shout and suddenly Tom was laughing. The sun was setting. No one was after them. No one was watching them, filming them , yelling at them to get back inside. They were free. Still laughing they collapsed on the grass, Barry hitting the ground harder than Tom because he'd had to manoeuvre over him, both gasping for breath. They caught each other's eyes through the yellow-autumn grass, chests heaving and something caught, made them catch their breath… and then look away.

**LAST**

**Barry**'s eyes flickered open. Tom was curled against him, still sleeping, his leg bent between Barry's his hand fisted gently over Barry's chest, his nose against Barry's shoulder. He shifted – waking up, because Barry was. It was inevitable. His knee pressed lightly against Barry's inner thigh and Barry's legs tensed and he realised he'd been half-hard to begin with… now it was worse. He let out a soft sigh and looked away, frustrated. This certainly wasn't the first time this had happened. Not nearly, but Barry was uncomfortably aware that it was Tom that his body had responded to… although his brother didn't have to know that. "Tom?" he whispered despite wanting the moment to last. Tom opened his eyes. "Hmm? Oh." His brother said, glancing down for a second. One couldn't be aroused without the other. It was just how it worked. They staggered out of bed, neither fully awake, and to the shower. Despite their shared bodies, Barry was harder than Tom and he turned himself away from his brother as he brought himself off, one hand pressed hard against the wall. Tom kept to himself under the stream of water, keeping his eyes down. Barry kept his own eyes closed, wanting him… he grit his teeth to keep from saying anything he didn't want to.

**SCAB**

**Tom** touched the mark on Barry's face. Hard skin was forming over where Nick had hit him, beer bottle still in hand. He'd cut his face pretty bad. Until they cleaned the blood away they'd thought he might need stitches, but it hadn't been that bad. Barry didn't open his eyes. It was still early and Nick's shouting had woken them. He'd been in a foul mood recently… his conversation with Laura might have had been part of it. Neither of them were willing to be awake yet.

Tom curled closer to his brother and Barry's hand found and curled lightly around his waist, just over his hip. Tom hated that he couldn't defend Barry against Nick… or against anything else, really, for that matter.

**CROWN**

**Barry **stared at the words.

_You're lookin' cool_

_Feel the crown jewels_

_All the way home_

It was funny. He'd been singing them for so long, and yet he'd never really thought about it. What it meant. He'd looked it up when he'd gotten the chance.

"_The most prized asset or possession in a group"_

Was that all that they were to these people? He glanced up at Spitz across the room who didn't glance up from his newspaper.

Maybe the lyrics were just supposed to be discreetly sexual like Paul had said he was to write.

**TIME**

**Tom** held Barry closer to him, his arm tight around his brother's shoulders. Barry was breathing hard. Nick had tried to hit him again, and for once he'd fought back. Nick had left and Paul, Tom and Barry were left standing in silence in the middle of the rehearsal room. Paul caught Tom's eyes as Barry leaned into his brother and buried his face in his shoulder. Tom shook his head briefly, dismissing him and Paul left.

Tom stroked Barry's hair… it had only been a matter of time until that happened. He just hoped that this didn't mean more animosity between Baz and their manager.

**RICE**

**Barry **thought that really, it was a small miracle that something other than cereal, sandwiches, fried beans, pasta or eggs had been made at Humbleden… and to everyone's surprise it was Spitz that threw together the rice and fish. It wasn't the best meal they'd eaten, but after the blandness of canned food this was something else.

Tubs was making fun of Spitz and even Paul had joined in, suggesting they buy him an apron. Spitz had decided to play along instead of hiding behind his books and newspapers and soon the whole kitchen was laughing… Barry missed nights like that. They were few and far between. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted.

**WORN**

**Tom** had pulled Barry outside when Nick slammed his plate down on the table. His own heart was skipping with Barry's because his was so irregular. He tried to calm him down as they walked around the garden. Barry finally collapsed onto a bench and leaned back, staring at the sky. Tom hadn't really seen that until just then how exhausted his brother looked with dark circles under his eye and a slightly vacant expression, letting his eyes slip out of focus. Had he been fighting something Tom hadn't bothered to notice?

Barry took a deep breath then closed his eyes and leaned into Tom's shoulder until they both felt their bodies calm.

**PAINT**

**Barry**'s eyes fixed on Tom's as they listened to Nick talk to Paul in the next room.

"Gonna have t'paint that room o'theirs over when we leave here. Mr Bedderwick won't want that."

"I don't think we have to worry about that just yet," Paul replied, soft and calm as always.

"They wanna send us away… go back home." Barry mumbled.

Tom frowned. "Why?"

"Nick's just panicking," Tubs said, looking away from his paper to the door where Nick and Paul were still talking. "He won't send you back, don't worry… he just…" Tubs's eyes caught Barry's and Tom felt his brother tense, then relax when Tubs smiled.

The kitchen door slammed and the three of them looked up as Paul entered the room and rolled his eyes. "Roll that man a couple joints for Christmas," he said.

"He needs to calm down," Tubs replied, going back to his paper, but not before glancing at Barry.

"They think I'm crazy," Barry told Tom later that night.

**ACHE**

**Tom **closed his eyes, letting the heat from the bath wash over him. They'd just done a gig and he knew he was filthy. They'd gotten most of the sweat and grime off of themselves by now and Barry's eyeliner was smudged and running.

Tom reached up and rubbed his eyes, his fingers dripping with bath water. When he opened them, he watched Barry rub the cloth through the water and over his shins, higher to his thighs. Tom eyes lingered there, at the sharp hipbone that stood out more because of the angle he and Barry had to sit at on the edge of the tub.

"Whassa matter, Tommy?" Barry asked and Tom looked up to meet his eyes. Tom shook his head, but stopped when Barry grinned at him. "What'cha lookin' at?"

Tom rolled his eyes a little.

"Wasn't looking at nothing." Tom said softly, reaching down to wet his hands and push them through his hair, then shaking the water out of it, making it stand on end a bit.

Barry pushed himself closer, dropping the cloth into the water. His hand fell on Tom's leg, just above the knee and Tom looked up again. The way Barry was looking at him made him catch his breath.

"Baz…" he said, because he wanted to stop Barry… stop him looking at him like that… and he also wanted him to move closer.

"What, Tommy?"

Barry sucked some water off of his lower lip and Tom leaned in. The kiss was sloppy, open-mouthed like in the photoshoot, but they weren't messing around this time. The only sound was their breathing and the soft sounds of the water as it moved around their legs. Barry's hand had fallen to Tom's shoulder, clutching at him, holding him close. They didn't know why they were kissing, but it wasn't cautious or soft this time. It was just kissing, plain and simple.

Tom held Barry's hip tightly, his arm around his brother's narrow waist.

There was a creak of floorboard outside and the bang of something, Eddie's camera hitting the wall. They knew it was Eddie because he cursed a second later, presumably checking the camera for damage. The boys stopped kissing, but didn't pull away. Arms still around each other's waists they turned their faces towards the door.

Eddie stepped around the corner, still in the shadows.

Barry glared at him, then turned his face away, leaning down so his head was almost against Tom's chest, hiding from the cameras as he had when they first arrived here.

"Go 'way, Eddie." Tom mumbled, turning away, his lips close to the back of Barry's neck. They were both half-hard, but by the time Eddie left the exhaustion from after the gig had set in. The exhaustion of being here, at Humbleden, doing what they were doing…

They were sick of it.

**CHERRY**

**Barry **and Tom were sitting in a circle of people they didn't know and a few from their sound crew, laughing and passing around a joint. They were celebrating last night's gig**, **their hangovers and coming down cured by more of what had made them feel like shit in the first place.

Barry dragged on it hard until Tom could feel the heady rush from the drug.

Barry caught the eyes of a girl across the circle - almost glared at her, sucking harder as though to prove a point, then he lowered the joint and swallowed down the smoke. Still, when he exhaled it blew from his mouth in a cloud that hovered around them, catching and holding the light and making them realise just how much smoke was in the air.

Laura sat down beside Tom, tossing her hair over her shoulder and reaching for the joint that Tom had between his lips. She leaned forward and they kissed and Barry stared at the floor. Fucking Laura. Why was she always fucking around?

When they pulled back she smiled at Tom, and Barry had had enough.

Tom turned towards his brother when Barry touched his arm and they were kissing again. Barry felt him try to pull back but he fought him, touching his tongue against Tom's lips… and Tom gave in.

The circle laughed, some of them nervously. Most of them were too stoned or drunk to really give it much thought.

"Hey, _Miss_ Ashworth," one of the guys across the circle said, raising a hand. Lower-class, someone who had a grudge against her. "I'd say you weren't the first one to show those fucking twins a thing or two. They're doin' fine by themselves!"

Barry pulled away, glaring and Tom felt that tension rush between them. He didn't want Barry to lose control here so he wrapped his arm around his brother's waist and pulled them to their feet.

"Tom?" Laura said, touching his leg as they stood. He gave her a glance, but pulled Barry away out into the hall. Some members of the circle roared with laughter, making inappropriate comments.

Paul lowered his fag, watching them go with concern but Tom didn't stop for him.

They took the stairs to their room fast, and in silence.

Tom closed the door, expecting to turn to Barry, comfort him. Their sound crew hadn't laughed. They knew how the boys were, more or less… just those drunk idiots from God knew where.

He turned to Barry and found himself stepping back, Baz's weight against him, the wooden door at his back, and they were kissing again, just for a minute, before Barry buried his face in Tom's shoulder, clutching at his shirt. He wished they were back home.

There was a knock at the door. Laura.

Barry pulled back and looked at his brother. So close. They were so close.

"Don't answer it, Tommy," he said, so softly Tom nearly had to read his lips.

"But-"

"Don't answer the door, Tom."

"Barry…" he was moving forward, about to turn and open it. Barry gripped the back of his head and kissed him. Tom pulled back. "Barry, please-" he reached for the doorknob again.

"Don't, Tom. Tom!" Barry's voice was raising and they both knew that Laura could hear them now.

"Barry, just-"

And that was when Baz shut down. Tom saw his eyes glaze over and he stared at him for a moment, then looked away.

"Don't, Barry… don't do this." But Baz didn't look at him so Tom exhaled roughly through his nose and turned to pull the door open.

**LIBRARY**

**Tom **like the Humbleden library even though it wasn't really anything to speak of anymore. Most of the books had been taken down and never put back, scattered throughout the house or hoarded away in people's room. Mostly Paul took them. And Laura.

The boys found themselves sitting on the floor in a pool of sunlight early one Sunday morning, several books piled around them. Barry had one open on his lap but leaning over Tom's shoulder who was paging through a heavy volume of birds balanced on his crossed legs. Their closeness allowed only one of them to sit crosslegged at a time, so Barry's were curled to the side. He was trying to get Tom to turn the pages faster than Tom wanted to, but he was used to that. They were pooling over this particular book because it was the exact same one their father had back home. The one that he'd taught them all the birds on the Head with, and they could still name half of them just from the pictures. It became a game, who could name them first.

"That one's on the Head," Barry said suddenly.

Tom looked at him, half smiling. "Yeah, I _know_, Barry."

Paul hesitated in the hallway because the library doors were never open and he stood watching the two of them. Their heads were so close their hair was brushing. Without all the gig makeup Barry wore and the tight gig clothes, just the boys in their jeans and sweaters, Tom's trousers rolled up above the knee, and both of them barefoot. Suddenly he could picture them, how they once were, before they'd come here. It had gotten harder and harder to picture these boys as quiet country-lads with everything Paul had seen them do…

He didn't disturb them.

**WIN**

**Barry** shoved Tom's hands away when they reached for him. "No! Fuck off! Fuck off, Tommy!" Tom had tried to hold back the episode, but Barry knew that that never worked. And Tom knew it. They could never fight Him back completely. He always won.

They staggered across the room, Barry too distraught to keep them flowing together. They hit the small table in the recording room and everything on it crashed to the flood, a glass shattering.

"Barry!" Tom gasped as his back hit the wall, forcing the air out of him. Barry's eyes were wild and frightening, but the only thing it made Tom feel was desperation. He reached for Barry's face, over and over and each time Barry's forced his hands away. They fought each other like that, Tom keeping his back pressed against the wall now that he had his breath back because it was easy to balance like that. Finally he succeeded and he pulled Barry down against him, stroking his neck, the hair above his ears, shushing him, saying his name softly. Barry shoved at him, but Tom fought back and then suddenly all Baz's shouting, all the noise stopped. Just stopped and Barry was left breathing hard against Tom's shoulder.

Neither of them moved, too terrified to do so in case it rocked something loose again, sent that voice in Baz's head talking – telling him things he didn't want to hear.

They'd fought It and they'd won. For the first time. It was easy to force It down when It just started, but never when it got as bad as it just had. Barry raised his head after a long time, staring at the floor, shaking hard. Tom's hands still on his neck, in his hair. Their eyes met but Tom didn't see triumph there… it was something else. Half-fear and half astonishment. Tom could still see the struggle there in his eyes. Something that had made him almost happy suddenly faded and left him feeling worse than before… they'd won this time, but next time… next time it was going to be worse. And they both felt that.

**LOSS**

**Tom**'s eyes opened and he instantly closed them again, burying his face in the pillow. It must be mid-afternoon. They never used to sleep this long. He was exhausted and his head hurt. Sometimes he hated the drugs. He reached out for Barry, moving close and pushing his face into his chest. Barry pulled away, tension rippling through him, rolling onto his back, away from Tom. Tom opened his eyes again, staring at him.

He'd turned his face away, arms pulled close to himself. Tom reached out to touch him again, saying his name, and Barry pulled his arm away. "Stop it."

Tom pulled back. "What?"

"Just don't." Barry opened his eyes and looked away, staring at the waving shadows made from the trees on the wall. Tom curled into himself, the only thing holding him to Barry now was the join. He touched it softly, brow furrowed. Barry got like this a lot after he lost control. Tom curled up tighter and closed his eyes.

**FOLD**

**Barry **watched Laura folding towels. She and Adele and sometimes Paul were really the only people that did anything like that. She reminded him of Robbie when she did that. She caught his eyes and he blinked at her, then looked away, tucking his head against Tom's who was writing in his chord book. Tom didn't look up, but leaned a little into him so that Barry knew he wasn't ignoring him. Barry kept his eyes on Laura, making her uncomfortable, he knew.

"What, Barry?" she asked after a moment, not looking at him anymore, keeping her eyes on her hands, folding.

"What?"

"Why're you staring at me like that?"

"Like what? I wasn't," he said. She looked back at him again and he turned his face into Tom's neck. Why the fuck didn't she _see _that Tom didn't need her… not when he had Barry.

**MUSIC**

**Tom **laughed with Barry as they fooled around. The recording sessions without Nick and Laura were always better. Tom liked them better when Paul didn't keep coming over, keep prompting Baz, keep touching him like he did. He caught Barry's eyes over the microphone as they sang the lyrics to Two-Way Romeo together. They didn't seem to realise how close they were to each other until their lips brushed and Tom stuttered a little, making Barry grin and stop singing. Suddenly they were both laughing because they'd messed up the song and Nick wasn't there to yell at them for it. The freedom of it broke the tension that always seemed to drift about Humbleden broke and even Spitzy and Paul were laughing. Tub's just kept playing, a little slower, his own beat, watching them all a little perplexed, but suddenly it was like old times again… just for a few moments… but it was enough.

**BELL**

**Barry** played with the rope tied to the bell on the roof of the house. It was only the second time they'd ever been up here and this time they were hiding from Nick. "What's this for? S'not like anyone was gonna ring it."

"Decoration?" Tom suggested.

Barry scoffed, pulled at the rope and they both jumped. The sound was a lot louder than they'd expected. Barry burst out laughing and Tom pulled him away. "You'll have Nick out here."

"Fucking Nick," Barry said, reaching for the bell again, Tom pushed him back, playfully saying, "No, don't." They stumbled over some loose bricks and fell, Tom's body over Barry's, pressing down. "Ow-fuck," Barry said, wincing. Their laughter hadn't faded completely when Tom kissed him. No one could see them from up here. They were hidden by the crumbling brick walls and so there was nothing to stop them.

Barry clutched at the back of Tom's shirt, their shoes slipping on the rubble as they struggled to get closer. That was the thing. They were already too close. They couldn't get closer than that and that only fuelled their desperation.

"Oh, fuck," Barry gasped, arching up against him as Tom ground his hips down. They weren't even kissing anymore as they rocked against each other, but their mouths were still touching, occasionally catching each other's lips between their own, eyes closed. Their breath was sharp and short as they moved. Tom let out a short almost pitiful sound, rocking faster until it almost hurt. Until the muscles in their stomachs and thighs ached with tension. Barry's hands clawed down the back of Tom's shirt, pulling him down, but never close enough, grabbing his hips and guiding him, but Tom fought that guidance. Three long, broken movements and he released with a choked gasp. Breathing hard, he reached down at rubbed his hand against his brother… His brother. His.

Barry shuddered and arched until he came. They curled up there, together, amidst the crumbling bricks, heads tucked down close together as their breathing slowed.

**SLEEP**

**Tom** hugged Barry to him, that night in their bed, almost asleep, and Barry didn't object to the closeness as Tom thought he might, after everything that had happened that afternoon. Nothing was sexual about this, suddenly. It all changed so quickly. Sometimes Tom wanted him more than he'd wanted anyone, and other times… they were just TomandBarry again… he didn't know where the line was. Where he crossed it and how…

**CONTACT**

**Barry **could feel Tom's closeness to him the next few days. The brush of Tom's hand against his own, how Tom slipped his hands into the pockets of Barry's coat while the band shivered in the heavy rain that fell around them while they waited for Nick to get the fucking doors of Humbleden unlocked.

When Paul touched Barry's shoulder later that evening in the main room, Barry pulled away. "Tired, Tommy. Can we go to bed?"

Paul looked a little hurt, but when he caught Tom's eyes he smiled and turned away to light a cigarette. No one understood them. Not Paul, not anyone. Not even Laura.

**ELECTRICITY**

**Tom **kept his breathing slow and steady. It wasn't hard to keep anything about this a secret. They had always been too close. As they pressed against each other, jolts of feeling passing through them they kept as quiet as they could, listening for anyone outside. Listening for Eddie and his fucking camera. Sometimes he came, sometimes he didn't. Tom could hear the blood pounding through his ears as they lay perfectly still, Eddie filming them in the dark. Barry was hard, pressed against his thigh, their legs entwined and he could feel his brother's pulse where their chests touched. It was racing. Neither of them moved a muscle. It was like they were sleeping. Somehow, even this stillness could make him want Barry more than he ever had. The door creaked shut as Eddie left and their hands brushed as they reached down under the sheets, lips meeting in the darkness. Tom kissed Barry's neck as Baz stroked him gently, then harder. He clenched his jaw hard against his soft moans and listened to Barry's whispered incoherencies.

**MILK**

**Barry** just watched Tom eat his breakfast, stealing the last of his brother's milk because he'd drank all of his own. Tom reached for the glass and glared at him. Barry just raised his eyebrows as he drained it then handed it back. Their fingers brushed as Tom took it from his hand. He was smiling as he looked back down at his food.

He caught Paul's eyes across and felt his stomach flip over because the way that Paul was watching him, he remembered that Paul had done this… exactly what him and Barry were doing… all these things in secret… he knew what it looked like. He knew what their looks meant, their 'casual' touches, because he'd done it too… with that Chris Dervish.

He knew.

Tom's smile faded and he looked away, but only after Paul did.

**WILD**

**Tom** knew that Barry was always more outgoing on stage. They finished their set and Nick was onstage, taking Barry's mic and talking to the crowd, keeping them riled up. A show they'd fucking remember forever, and Barry turned and kissed Tom on the mouth. Neither of them heard the reaction from the crowd and Tom pulled away after a moment and laughed at the wild excitement in Baz's eyes.

"Fuck you!" his brother was screaming at the crowd who drowned him out without his microphone. Someone threw a bottle and they were all ushered off the stage. No one else from the band had noticed.

It was passed off as a rumour.

**EXPECTATION**

**Barry** watched Tom that night in the bathroom, waiting for Tom to kiss him as usual. Touch him like that again, but he didn't. He kept his head down, his eyes averted.

"Tommy?" Barry asked.

"What, Baz?" Tom asked, and Barry heard that tone in his voice again. That way he talked when he wanted Barry to stay out of it – whatever him and Laura were doing.

Barry watched him for a moment, confused, then he looked away.

"Should have fucking expected this, Tommy." He found himself saying, against his will.

"Shut up, Barry."

**MECHANISM**

**Tom **curled around Barry that night, even though Barry seemed to be trying to ignore him. He was sorry… it was just… everything was so fucked up, and he didn't know what was right anymore. But this was how things worked… they couldn't fight. Couldn't hate each other. There was no way to live like that. After a while of Tom stroking his brother's hair, Barry relaxed and pressed himself against him. Just contact. Nothing sexual. Not until Barry titled his head up and kissed Tom's throat. Tom closed his eyes.

"Barry, maybe we should stop doing this."

"Why?" he asked against his skin.

"Because… because we're not supposed to."

"Who says?" Barry wasn't kissing him anymore, but his head was still tilted down.

"No one, just… you know-"

"No I don't. I don't fucking know, Tommy, because you can't make up your fucking mind. Me or Laura?"

"What?"

"Me and you like it's always been or you can go right the fuck ahead and get a separation like you want to. I'm the one who's gonna die, not you. Not you, Tommy."

"Barry stop it!"

"No, go fucking get it done." Barry sat up and rolled on top of Tom just long enough to fetch the knife from the drawer they'd put it in when they'd pretended to separate themselves in front of the camera.

Tom grabbed for it, but Barry shoved his hands back. He pressed the blade against the centre of the join and looked up at Tom, grabbing his hand and pressing it down on the blade enough so that it just, but didn't break the skin.

"Go on. Do it, Tommy."

"No,"

"Do it, you want to."

"No I don't! I don't want to!" Tom was afraid to pull his hand away because Barry's was pressed over his, applying the pressure.

They were still and silent, just watching each other, then Barry lifted the blade and tossed the knife across the room. They heard it clatter to the floor some way off.

"Goin' to sleep." He lay down again and closed his eyes… he wouldn't answer when Tom talked to him.

**FINALE**

**Barry** woke up to find Tom's arm around him, how own hand soft on Tom's hip. He ran it over the join, and Tom's eyes flickered open.

Barry caught his eyes and moved to sit up but Tom didn't follow. He raised a hand and grabbed Barry's shoulder, stopping him.

"I want you. S'how it's always been."

"Don't need your pity." Barry snapped, braced on his elbow, looking away, but Tom could feel his tension.

"It's not pity… we're…" Tom hesitated, his eyes on his brother who finally turned his face to look at him, eyes brighter in the morning sunlight. "We're supposed to always be together." Tom said.

Suddenly Barry let out a half laugh. "Obviously," he said, and Tom had to smile. Barry's expression clouded again a moment later though. He shifted slightly closer, laying down fully again, eyes large and cautious.

"Does that mean we can, like… still touch and stuff?"

Tom held his eyes for a moment, then nodded, leaning close to kiss him. Barry's hand came up and buried in his hair, and he relaxed, fully and a sudden simplicity came back to him like… like this was how it had always been. They knew this…

It wasn't complicated anymore.


End file.
